


ANZAC Day 2015

by aljohnson



Series: The YACI-verse (Modern AU) [4]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: ANZAC Day, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluffy, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time we dropped in on Phryne and Jack, I feel. Just to see where they're up to...</p><p>******************************************************<br/>Because even the British Press has been talking about Gallipoli and ANZAC Day this year (mostly prompted by typical British journalism that totally misses the point, and a terrorism incident that appears to have meant the the entire Victoria Police Force Metropolitan area officers were working this ANZAC Day), I thought we might want to see how Jack and Phryne's day has gone. </p><p>Also, the VPF officers have name badges now - I couldn't resist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	ANZAC Day 2015

**Author's Note:**

> For information about what happens in Melbourne on Anzac Day - see here: 
> 
> http://www.shrine.org.au/Remembrance/Ceremonies/ANZAC-Day-2015

“Jack?” Phryne stirred and raised her head from the pillow, her voice still raspy.

“Sorry Phryne, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“What time is it?” asked Phryne, looking around and trying to focus on the digits on the digital alarm on Jack’s bedside table.

“Just on Three am.” Jack offered. Phryne groaned. “Go back to sleep Phryne.”

“And miss you putting that uniform on? I think not.” Phryne rolled over in bed and flicked on the lamp on her bedside table. Jack had been trying to get dressed by the sliver of light being cast from the marginally open door of the en-suite bathroom.

Jack fixed his name badge to the flap of his jacket’s breast pocket, finalised his hair, knotted his tie and sat on the armchair in the corner of the bedroom to lace up his shoes.

“You’re going to miss your cycle race” said Phryne, with a touch of regret. She liked watching Jack racing. Firstly, he was very good at it, which generally gave him an ego-boost for days afterward that led to him being a commanding force in the bedroom; a side of Jack Phryne relished - not that she was shy about making her own desires known. Secondly, cycling made him happy even if he didn’t have a great result, which led to him releasing a great deal of his built up tension - Phryne knew that relaxed Jack was always great fun. Thirdly, he looked amazing in lycra, all sweating and hot, his muscles rippling. It had taken all of Phryne’s resolve the first time she had seen him race not to drag him away from the finish line and ravish him behind the clubhouse.

Jack shrugged, his movement bringing Phryne back from her thoughts. “Some things are more important. Are you coming to the service?”

“I’m going to try, but this strep throat has just knocked me for six.”

“Which is why you slept through my alarm clock. You’ve been taking the antibiotics? You seem a little better?”

“I am feeling a bit better. I just hope it’s cleared up for next weekend.”

“We can always cancel the booking.” Jack didn’t want to cancel the booking, not at all. He’d managed to find a very nice, very secluded hotel out in the country, where each room had a private balcony with its own hot-tub. He had already pre-ordered the welcome package which included the bottle of champagne, and was looking forward to seeing Phryne in a bikini one more time before the winter settled in. He was also looking forward to seeing Phryne _out_ of the bikini, and he hoped the privacy of the balcony was going to lead to _topless_ hot-tub activities. And _bottomless_ activities, if he was honest.

“No Jack. We’ve both been working so hard, especially you this last week. We’d deserve a weekend away, even if it wasn’t our anniversary.”

Jack hummed his approval, a smile forming across his lips which spread so far as to give a twinkle to his eye. “We do. And I very much look forward to being able to snog you properly.”

Phryne smiled. “I should get up. They’re saying the public should arrive from Four, and I’m assuming it’s going to be busy?”

“They’re reckoning a hundred thousand.”

“It said on the news last night. If I’m going I want a good view.”

“Always the obsession with the good view,” teased Jack.

“Well if one is going to make the effort to attend these things…”

“Of course. _One_ is correct.” Jack finalised his clothes, buttoning up the jacket before moving over to the bed. He bent down and kissed Phryne on the temple. “Take an umbrella, they’re forecasting drizzle.”

Phryne ran her hand from Jack’s shoulder, down across his jacket. She slid her thumb slowly across the indentations on his name badge. “I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“Hmm. You’ve said.” He smiled, as he stroked the back of his fingers down her cheek. “I have to go, or I’ll be late. See you later?”

“I’ll look out for you.”

“You’re very unlikely to see me in that many people. But take your phone, in case I get a chance to text you?”

“When have I not taken my phone anywhere?”

“I’m just saying. Love you.” He pressed another kiss to her temple and crept from the bedroom, anxious to avoid waking either Jane or The Butlers.

Phryne stretched and rolled in bed. Time to get up, she resolved, pushing the covers down the bed, shivering at the loss of warmth.

 

************************************************

 

The service had finished, and the crowd was beginning to disperse from the area immediately near to The Shrine. Many of those present were obviously staying to watch The March. Phryne suspected many of those present were in fact going to be marching. Certainly the proliferation of proudly worn medals suggested as much. She considered whether she should have worn her grandfather’s World War Two Service Medals. It felt awkward somehow, as if she would be distracting from those here today who had actually served, especially this year.

She spotted Jack on the edge of the crowds, marshalling Police Officers to their new tasks as the focus of the morning shifted. She whipped her phone from her bag, woke it up and swiped to the camera. Zooming in she managed to take a picture as Jack looked up. She decided to attach it to a tweet:

**So proud of @callmejack today. #protectingMelbourne**

She was still watching Jack and smiling as she saw him furrow his brow, before reaching into his jacket pocket. He took his phone out, fiddled with it for a second, frowned again and looked up. He spotted her and smiled before shaking his head gently and returning his phone to his pocket.

 

***********************************************

 

At Five pm Jack let himself in through the front door. Phryne was on the sofa, reading a book. She looked up as she heard him shuffling his shoes off.

“You’re back.” She smiled and shut her book.

“My feet are killing me. I don’t think I’ve spent so long standing up since I was a Constable.”

“Come here.” Phryne beckoned Jack towards her. He pressed a kiss to her cheek before sinking down onto the sofa. Mr Butler appeared as if by magic in the doorway.

“Good evening Sir. A glass of wine perhaps?”

“That would be marvellous, thank you.” Jack replied, overlooking the ‘Sir’ once more. He and Mr Butler had reached a tacit understanding that he would only ask the older man to call him Jack once a week, and Mr Butler would only defer to the request with similar frequency. Mr Butler reappeared with two glasses on a small silver tray. Mr Butler carefully placed the two glasses on the coffee table next to the sofa. One was a wine glass, which he placed near Jack, the other contained what Jack suspected was elderflower cordial, and which Mr Butler placed by Phryne. He smiled at the couple before leaving Jack and Phryne alone once more.

“Come on.” Said Phryne, patting Jack’s thighs. Jack sat back, collecting his glass of wine as he went. He swung his legs up, his feet coming to rest in Phryne’s lap. She plucked his socks from his feet and began to carefully massage his feet. He sighed as he relaxed, unbuttoning his jacket.

“So it all went off OK then?” Phryne asked.

“Yes, fine, in the end. Despite, well, everything.”

“A fourteen year old on the other side of the world trying to incite something utterly foolish?” Phryne had been shocked when she had read the BBC's online reporting earlier that week.

“Yeah. Strange week, with all that.”

“It’s not even in your division Jack.”

“True. But when stuff like this happens it’s every hand to the pumps. Sorry I wasn’t here much these last few days.”

“It’s fine Jack. You know I understand.”

“You do. It wasn’t supposed to be like this though…”

“I know. And I am grateful that it isn’t all the time. I think we’re quite spoilt by your timetable usually being what it is.”

“We are. But thank you for understanding nevertheless.”

Phryne shrugged, “I knew what I was getting into. So did you, for that matter.”

“True, true.” Jack sipped his wine as Phryne ground the knuckle of her thumb into a particularly sore spot on the ball of Jack’s left foot. He groaned, partially in pain and partially in relief. “How did you find me in that many people?”

“You know I have a good eye for a man in uniform.”

“You must have had a ball today then.” He said cheekily, with a slight smirk.

“Absolute heaven,” Phryne said, “but the only one I’m really bothered about is you.” She swept her fingers around his feet, before tapping his ankles lightly. Jack bent his knees, shuffling himself to sit up properly. “I do love you, you know.”

“I know you do,” Jack paused, “and it’s been almost four years.”

“Almost four years” Phryne agreed, with an ease which continued to surprise her everytime the longevity of their relationship was raised. In the end, it had always just felt natural to progress  _them_. They had both had to take moments, on occasion, to consider their next steps, but Phryne had found that telling Jack her fears was easier than allowing her fears to hold her back; to hold _them_ back. 

“Hmm. Is it too early to go to bed?” Jack asked.

“Not if you’re tired. You were up very early.” Phryne sipped some of her drink. It almost looked like wine, if she squinted. 

“I’m not entirely tired.” Jack looked at Phyrne, who met his gaze and noticed his pupils were slightly dilated.

“We can’t kiss…” she replied, slightly mournfully.

“I can think of a lot of other things we could do.”

Phryne effected mock surprise. “Why Jack Robinson, how very _inventive_ of you.”

He smouldered as he leaned towards her on the sofa. “Well I do know that however much you like a man in uniform, you like him _out_ of uniform even more, and I am feeling the need to peel this uniform off.”

“Which sounds like just the sort of operation which requires my unique assistance.” Phryne felt her interest beginning to flare already.

They rose from the sofa and made their way to the bedroom. Phryne had Jack’s uniform on the floor of the boudoir in less time than it had taken them to get up the stairs.


End file.
